An Ongoing History of Almost Everything: In Memoriam

Shortly after I returned home from Ohio, we received word that Ryan's Grandad was in a bad way. He had not been a well man for a couple of years, but his health had begun to deteriorate quickly. We talked about making an impromptu trip to Fairbourne to see him, and hopefully support Ryan's Grandma, but Heavenly Father's timing intervened. Before we could book time off work or look into flights, Ryan got the dreaded phone call with the news that his Grandpa had passed away.

For me, it turned out that time off work was out of the question, but Ryan was able to fly out for the funeral and spend a dew days with family that he hadn't seen for years. I was at home feeling dejected. I had never met Ryan's Grandpa Buechele, and it was sad to know that in this life I really never will. I regretted visits that were thought about but never finalised, and Christmases when we really should have made a phone call but sent a card instead. I spent some time contemplating this man that I never knew, wondering about him and what he was like.

I remembered my Grandad Hooson and how he would catch us when we were little and squeeze us in the 'scissors' until we laughed and screamed (or Emma cried.) Did this man play games like that? Did he laugh as loudly as my Grandad? I wonder if he showed his Grandkids how to pick peas off the vines, or took them for walks along the old railway lines like my Grandad Hooson did. I thought about Grandad Crossley; how he'd sit out in the sun and turn brown as a berry within minutes, and I'd wish that I could take after him instead of Becky. How he'd take us to the park to play on the big tyre swings, or let us hold the lead when we helped him walk Bonnie, the dog. I wonder if this man made potted beef or pologne sandwiches like my Grandad Crossley made for me?

Ryan knows me well. When he returned Ohio he brought with him photographs, and stories, and some of his Grandpa's ties, and with them he helped me piece together an idea of his Grandpa. Nearly all of the stories Ryan remembers about his Grandad involve being outdoors; camping trips, nature reserve visits, and learning how to fish. Ryan lived under his Grandparents roof, along with his parents, until he was four and spent many later summers visiting with them. He remembers being given free reign of his Grandad's raspberry bushes and would eat them hand over fist. The well tended vegetable garden, on the other hand, was supposed to be off limits, but Ryan would eat the peas as soon as they were ready, leaving his Grandad wondering why the crop never seemed to produce much.

Out in the front garden, Ryan remembers some plants with long sharp leaves. He and his younger brother would tear them off day after day, using the leaves as swords in whatever battle they were imagining. Grandad was not impressed. He did enjoy sharing his fishing tackle kit with his Grandkids, teaching them how to bait a hook and what each tiny piece was used for. Ryan loved playing with the plastic worms he used for Bait, and managed to break endless amounts of them, but his Grandpa Buechele never seemed to mind and the kit was always theirs to play with.

He was an Air Force man for over 20 years. He flew during the Vietnam war and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. In what Ryan considers the coolest story of his Grandpa's flying career, his Grandad survived a mid-air collision and went on the successfully land the damaged plane. Ryan remembers him as a quiet man, maybe even a stern man. Unless they were watching baseball, and then he was just Grandpa.